


Truce

by Neyiea



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:08:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch and Sandy start a fight in the rain, only to have their weapons of choice get soggy and ineffective. They strike a temporary truce and find a place to wait the rain out so that their sand can get dry again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truce

He's drawn to the sound of thunder, crackling and crashing high above a city. Flashes of lightening, nearly blinding in their brightness, sporadically strike and leave the air thick with a terrified anticipation.

He doesn't generally like standing in the rain, especially now that one of his main tools is sand, but this opportunity is too good to pass up.

So many children panic at the sound of booming thunder and the sight of uncontrollable lightening, not to mention the foreboding feeling when they consider the total darkness of a possible power outage. It's not directed at him, but it is potent enough that he doesn't care.

He lifts his face to the sky, closes his eyes against the heavy rain, and drinks in the taste of fear.

Or at least he attempts to, but he hears a soft whisper of movement under the pitter-patter of rain and steps aside just as a golden whip of Dreamsand snaps at the place he'd been standing previously.

It's just his luck that Sandy was passing through the area.

"Can't a spirit enjoy a bit of terror without being interrupted?" He says in greeting as he turns and Sandy lashes out with the whips again. Pitch forms a long-handled scythe out of his Nightmaresand and dodges the whips gracefully.

"I'm not even the thing making them afraid tonight," regretfully, "don't you have something better to do?"

Sandy huffs at him and rushes forward. They dance around each other, twisting and turning endlessly, both trying to one-up the other, and Pitch is just beginning to think he's doing rather well during this particular confrontation when the scythe slips in his grasp.

He fumbles forward and Sandy manages to coil a tendril around his wrist. Pitch clenches his eyes shut, preparing to be tossed around.

Sandy pulls at him, but the Dreamsand breaks and begins to fall apart in wet clumps.

They stare at each other for a long moment.

Pitch's scythe melts into nothing but a pile of black mud, and no matter how hard Sandy commands it, his own sand will only move sluggishly before it too puddles at his feet.

Great.

"Well, I hope you're happy with yourself." Pitch crosses his arms moodily. "Your petty revenge cost us both hours of work."

The Dreamsand isn't able to move with Sandy's thoughts, but his outrageous expression and dramatic body language are enough to give Pitch an idea of what he means.

"Yes, petty, honestly, just because I managed to kill you-" Sandy flies forward and Pitch artfully dodges his fist. "Do you really want to go hand-to-hand with me, Sandy, or do you want-" Another fist lashes out and this time Pitch doesn't manage to dodge it. He's had worse, much worse, but he rubs at his jaw testily and frowns.

"Are you quite finished?"

Sandy crosses his arms and glares up at him, but doesn't make a move to hit him again.

"Wonderful. As I was saying, either we can stand out here fighting and get even more drenched, or we can go our separate ways and find a dry place to un-soak ourselves."

Sandy glances down at the puddles pooling around their feet, then takes several quick steps towards Pitch until he's standing right in front of him, staring up with an utterly determined expression.

Pitch has a sinking feeling he knows what that expression means.

"Find a place to dry off together? Has all that eggnog addled your brain? We won't last five minutes before we're fighting again."

Sandy purses his lips tightly before his eyes brighten, if his sand were working properly it would probably form a lightbulb over his head. He extends a hand and Pitch eyes it warily.

"A truce?"

Sandy nods and stubbornly keeps his hand out until, with a sigh, Pitch concedes.

"Fine, now let's hurry up. I want to be able to use my Nightmare sand again before the next New Moon."

Sandy lightly kicks him in the shin and heads off, Pitch following after him with a subdued smirk.

They find refuge from the rain on an enclosed restaurant terrace. They spread their wet sand along the dry concrete in hopes that being in a thin layer will help it dry faster, then they slump into a pair of chairs across from each other.

Pitch clicks his tongue in annoyance and rings out the length of his shadow robe, which has become just as waterlogged as his sand, before closing his eyes and once again letting himself focus on the fear running rampant through the city. The storm has gotten even more intense, it will probably last all through the night.

How exciting.

Sandy taps his fingers against the table loudly and Pitch cracks one eye open to see the Dreamweaver glaring at him.

"What? It's not like I've got anything else to do to pass the time."

Sandy gestures to himself.

"You're not exactly the best conversationalist Sandy and I'm afraid I'm rarely, if ever, in the mood for charades."

Sandy very pointedly raps his knuckles against the tabletop. 

"Oh, fine, I'll just ignore the decadent horror swirling through the air, happy?"

Sandy grins and nods, giving two thumbs up. Pitch snorts.

"Well I refuse to just sit here in silence." He kicks at Sandy's legs under the table. "Entertain me."

Sandy cocks an eyebrow.

"I don't care how, just do it."

The Guardian of Dreams purses his lips together and taps at his chin in thought. Pitch leans back in his chair and lets his eyes droop.

Maybe he'd just take a nap to pass the time.

Sandy leans across the table and nudges him.

"What is it now?"

Sandy gestures down to a yellow, slightly damp notebook now sitting between them, a set of four lines drawn out on a page with an X marking the upper-right corner.

"I am not playing tic-tac-toe with you."

Sandy huffs in annoyance and flips to another page, scratching out something new in pen and sending Pitch moody looks from behind the pages.

He sets it down again and raises his eyebrows in a daring fashion while Pitch glances at it and feels his lips twitch upwards.

"Very well, I suppose a rousing game of Hangman will do to pass the time."


End file.
